


Everything Stays

by Control_Room



Series: Everyone (or almost everyone) Is Saved [1]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Character Study, Confusion, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Husky Dogs, Thirty Years Later, Years Later, everyone's saved, i hope i spelled niamh's last name right this time, im done tagging bye, ish, lavender - Freeform, time diference, willow trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 03:52:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15941231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room
Summary: Let's go in the garden, you'll find someone waiting, right there where you left him, thirty years ago.When you finally find him, you'll see how he's faded, the outside is lighter when you turn him around.Everything stays, right where you left, everything stays, but he still changes, ever so slightly, daily and nightly...In little ways, when everything stays.





	Everything Stays

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Gang's Back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15081206) by [Random_ag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag). 



Henry glanced around the car as they drove out of the city. Susie and Allison were chattering away. Johnny and Jack were talking music, and about what they thought changed with the art. Bertrum was on Lacie's lap, redder than a tomato. She pretended not to notice. Kim and Niamh were discussing the changes that might have happened in general. Norman and Grant were thinking of scientific progress that could have occurred. Joey kept his eyes on his hands. Eska bounced his head, almost unnaturally, as he looked at the highway fade. Shawn was lost in thought, turning the ring on his finger almost impatiently. Wally, sitting on Thomas' lap and holding Sammy's hand, looked out the window in wonder.

 

"It's... a lot bigger than it was," he quietly said, referring to the now enormous lavender field. The willow tree in the center seemed tiny by comparison to the waves of purple, a stark contrast to thirty years prior, when it seemed so much larger. A large barn turned house sat in beside the tree, weathered with age, but in remarkable condition. Wally swallowed. For him it may have been a few days, or not even, since he had last received a letter from him. But seeing Henry proved that time had pressed on faster than they did. Henry parked, everyone piling out. Wally caught Henry's shoulder, hesitant. "Do ya really think... ya sure this is a good idea?"

 

"Of course!" Henry chuckled at him and his incredulous and nervous face. They all approached the door. Music could faintly be heard through the willow. Eska shifted to hear better, feeling as it, mixed with the nearly overpowering smell of lavender, made him relax more than he had in ages. It seemed to have the same calming effect on everyone. Just like his presence. A low singing was in an undertone of the music as Henry opened the door. He paused, addressing everyone quietly. "Don't come in immediately, hold off a second, we don't really want him to have a heart attack."

 

Henry knocked on the wood, stepping over the threshold. The dining room was in front of them, exactly how it had been thirty years ago. Only the photographs had changed, new ones having been added. Henry greeted the person in the kitchen. The music turned down a little, and they could all hear him clearly.

 

"Henry! It's been months!" he exclaimed, voice more hoarse and lower with age. He stepped into the room, setting up forks and the such on the table, not looking outside to the open door, where his friends clamored to see him. His hair was pure white, but just as curly as ever. Lines creased his face softly, no doubt not just from war time. His eyes were bright still, more thinking than before, but with that self same intelligence. "Where the hell have you been!? Actually, don't answer that. I don't want to know. C'mon, I was just about to have dinner with the girls."

 

"What about with the boys?" Wally, unable to contain himself (as always), asked, stepping in. The now much older twin's eyes widened and his jaw dropped, as he shrieked, jumping back as though he saw a ghost. He dropped the plates he held in his hands, the glass clattering to the floor and shattering. His right hand moved to his heart, as though to check that he wasn't dead, his other hand running through his snow white hair. He looked behind Wally and saw Thomas and Sammy immediately. And behind them even more people he thought were dead. He gripped the table, hand by his heart gripping his shirt tightly. Tears he was not aware of leaked from his eyes. "You alright? Willy?"

 

"WALLY!" he screamed, launching himself onto his brother, tackling him into the crowd of people behind him. He gripped his brother instead of his shirt now, hugging him tightly. "Oh my fuck, holy shit, Wally! You're alive, you're here, you're not a day over twenty four! God... god damn it, I thought... I believed... holy..." he pulled away from his brother, shaking. He covered his mouth with his hands, shaking his head slowly. "I thought you died, Wallace. Fuck, I thought ALL of you died!"

 

He sat on the ground, Eska smiling as he recounted similar events. He covered his face in both hands, before Eska sat in front of him, gently removing them. The tears did not stop falling. He touched Eska's mask, studying him in a melancholic wonder. He slumped his head onto his shoulder, his own shaking as he tried to contain sobs.

 

"Eska, oh, I'm so sorry," he breathed, pulling his best friend all the closer, his musk dizzying and locked away in his mind, now repressed memories rushing back into his mind. "I... I had such nightmares, I kept seeing you hanged, over and over... Eska... I can't believe this… shit, you’re alive…."

 

Sammy and Thomas helped him up, and he looked over each with a sad smile even as tears ran their tracks down his face. He hugged both tightly. They loved his brother, and by extension, he loved them. He had missed them both, a lot. Kim waved, Niamh grinning by his side. He noticed Joey. A scowl.

 

"Joey McFuckin' with my employees anatomy Drew," he growled, narrowing his eyes and going over to his former boss. "Normally I'd say I'm a pacifist, but today I'm going to have to go with passive fist."

 

"What do you me-- SON OF A BITCH!" he doubled over in agony, Willy's foot returning to the ground after delivering a wicked kick between the legs. He dropped, cursing and hissing in pain. He licked his lips, forced himself to speak. "I... deserved... that."

 

"You did," Willy confirmed, before being swept into a hug by Allison and Lacie, their respective pairs sitting it out but greeting him. Jack and Johnny questioned him their inquiries on music of the day. His head spun. Norman and Grant slapped his back, congratulating him on reaching their level. Of age. He groaned, but was grinning. A hand ran down his arm. He slowly turned to face the person he lost hope on ever seeing or hearing from again. He opened his mouth to speak, the words failing him. So he settled on embracing Shawn, tightly, his tears dripping onto his shirt through his sweater. "Oh, I was so scared... but you're here and alive now... dear god, Shawn, you're here... I thought something happened to you that I couldn't do anything about."

 

"Oh, Willy," he hugged him back just as fierce. They pulled away, all eyes on them and all breaths held, but they were alone in their own universe. Shawn smiled at Willy's gaunt and saddened expression. "Willy, nothing's never happening to me. Never."

 

"I know... I'm," Willy trailed off, studying Shawn in a bemused manner, quirking an eyebrow, his smile returning cautiously. "Boy, you phrased that so weird."

 

"Whatever happened might've had side effects," Shawn shrugged, still grinning at him. Willy smiled, heart tingling from just having Shawn’s presence nearby. "Honestly, one might've been 'concussion'."

 

At this remark Willy laughed quietly to himself. Shawn's eyes caught his own, those beautiful, brilliant, and blue orbs drawing him in, his brown clearing as his thoughts concentrated on this one man, one emotion overfilling and taking over his entire body. Love, love, love. That's all he felt, all he could feel. He closed his eyes and closed the gap between them, still giddy and giggly from the pure joy. Shawn pulled him close, Willy's hand on the back of his neck, Willy's lavender tasting lips on his own, tears pressed from Willy's cheeks onto his own, as he gripped the back of Willy's shirt to keep himself grounded. Willy, on the other hand, was having trouble sticking to Earth, crying as he kissed his fiance whom he had not seen in thirty one long, lonely, and lost, years with as much strength as he could muster before his knees no longer supported him, buckling out and into Shawn. He held him as tight as he dared, Shawn mimicking the action, then swept him off his feet, carrying the emotionally exhausted man indoors. They sat on the couch, Wally on his other side, Eska sitting by his knees on the floor, because of course, it’s Eska, and the dark skinned man grew somber as he leaned back, covering his face with his arm. Footsteps rattled above them.    
  
“Holy hell,” Willy murmured, pushing himself up. “The girls….”

 

"Dad?" Marina shouted down the stairs, coming down. "Are people here? I heard talking!" She froze as she saw the array. "Holy hell!" She turned to yell up the stairs. "GONNER! YOU'RE NOT GONNA BELIEVE IT! I'M NOT SURE IF EVEN I CAN BELIEVE IT!"

 

"What is it Marina, I'm working on my thesi--HOLY HELL!" she had the same cat like reaction as Willy, leaping back and her hand too rising to her heart in shock. "Uncle Wally? Oh my God.... Pa?!"

 

"Let's talk this out over dinner," Willy exhaled, leaning back against Shawn. "I have no idea how this happened, either."

 

*****

 

Willy attempted to digest the information he learned at the dining table, broken plates all swept up and taken care of.

 

"So some of you were slapped together, some of you taken apart," he repeated what he could in a manner he could understand somewhat, rubbing his forehead. "And you all went crazy with no memory of it whatsoever? So for you all, only a little bit off time passed?"

 

“Yeah, weird, right?” Wally laughed. “Now, yer like, old!”

 

“We’re not that old!” Henry protested. “I’m like, fifty eight!”

 

“That’s old,” Jack hummed, leaning back. He rose his glass to Willy. “Damn, haven’t had a meal like that in, according to you guys, thirty years.”

 

“I’m glad you liked it,” Gonner smiled gently. In the years, she grew up to be a beautiful woman, her shape following Lacie’s in strength and awe inspiration. “Dad made the recipe for the potatoes and stuff.”

 

“I helped!” Marina stuck in, ever the energetic and bouncy young lady. Her body grew more into Allison’s tall and graceful form. Marina threw a spoonful of mashed potatoes at her sister’s face. Gonner dodged, and it splattered on Grant, Sori beside him giggling. The room fell silent. Gonner glared at Marina, but Willy held in a laugh. Shawn started laughing first though, the mirth infectious. Shawn began choking on his laughter, and Grant took aim. Splat, right into the Irishman’s face. Marina squealed in joy. “Nice aim, sir! Food fight, hell yeah!”

 

“Language!” Norman snapped, flinging potatoes at her. She moved to the right, the potatoes slamming on Sammy’s jacket. “Bullseye.”

 

Sammy grabbed a fistful of the stuff, twisting to dump it on Thomas’ face. Thomas smacked his plate on Henry, Eska plopping a bowl on Joey’s head. The brawl broke to hell when Niamh and Lacie joined, the two butch women essentially turret guns, but for mashed potatoes. Bertrum joined forces with Johnny to attack Fain and Lawrence. Within a half hour, there was no food left on the table, everyone covered in their dinner. Everyone dripped from head to toe in creamy potato guts. Everyone aside from one man. Willy leaned back, laughter pouring from his mouth. Marina nudged Gonner, the younger’s eyes bright and the elder’s wide and astounded. It was almost as though they hadn’t heard him laugh in thirty years. They hadn’t. He wiped tears from his face. Everyone faced him with an array of grins, smiles, smirks, and cold hearted stares, grabbing potatoes from their bodies. They all threw, and faster than a blink of an eye, an umbrella was withdrawn and snapped open, catching all of the food. Willy shook it off his umbrella onto Shawn (“Hey!” he whined). He stood up, clearing his throat.

 

“Showers are upstairs, down the hall, and in the basement,” he announced, grinning at all his unexpected and presumed dead guests. He looked specifically at Susie and Allison as he continued. “I swear to God, though, take turns. I know what’ll happen if the vast majority of you were allowed to shower together.”

 

“Alright, you’re the boss,” Sammy got up, potatoes dropping off of his body. “I’ll take the basement.”

 

“Upstairs,” Thomas claimed.

 

“Here,” Wally snatched. Willy snorted, shaking his head at their antics. “Oh brother, I hope that you understand. You’ll have time to hang out with everyone else in the meantime.”

 

“I await your return,” Willy nodded towards him. He set to cleaning, talking to everyone. Shawn studied him. His body had not changed much, if anything, he was more curvaceous and refined than he had been at twenty three. His hair had gone from that dark malt brown to a sugar white. His eyes became more studying and gentle, if that were even possible. A single line on the right side of his cheek indicated his aging. His face had become more set and carved. He had changed and not changed all at once. Scars, some much older than others ( blood dripping down his arms, he dropped the knife in surprise and horror at seeing Shawn staring, tears spilling from his eyes ), streaked his arms. One newer one appeared to be scraped off by a projectile or a… bullet. It clearly was one, of course he couldn’t escape the war without a physical reminder. Wally came out of the shower, Allison and Susie together (despite Willy’s glare) taking his place. Wally examined some photographs confused. Willy looked up, heart dropping when he realized what his twin was studying. “He’s… he’s gone. It happened in the war. He, um, he was shot next to me. She’s gone too, a terrorist attack on her bus. It’s just m-me and you now.”

 

“Oh…” Wally looked to his shoes. “And… for a long time, it was just you, wasn’t it.”

 

“When Marina and Gonner went to college,” Willy swallowed roughly. His daughters glanced at each other. “It was very just me. Then, the government sent me a dog. I named him Airgead, silver in Irish.” He glanced at Eska, turning red as though it was from revealing a personal secret. Shawn blinked, smiled, and sighed. Some things never changed. “He’s out back, actually, probably snoozing. He’s a sleepy ol’ son of a bitch, just like me.”

 

“Of course,” Wally rolled his eyes, nudging his twin, “Wouldn’t expect anything else or less from you.”

 

*****

 

“Everyone, you know where your specific guest rooms are,” Willy yawned, running a hand over his face. It was eventually nearing midnight, and everyone aside from Shawn had showered. “Quick note, since you all were dead and or disappeared, the government wanted to get rid of all your stuff, but I got to it first. Most of your things, at least. Norman, your family wanted it, and I wasn’t going to stop them, Lacie, your apartment building burnt down before I could get to your rooms, and your place was robbed, Kim. Sorry.”

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Norman smiled. “You didn’t think we were alive but you still took our stuff? Not bad, kid.”

 

“I’m technically five years older than you now,  _ kid _ ,” Willy retorted him sternly. “Now, shoo. Go to sleep, Polk. There’ll be life ta talk in the morning.”

 

“Goodnight,” many of them choroused, the rest, “see you tomorrow!” and a minute few; “sleep well.”

 

Shawn turned to go down the hall to shower before a hand caught his shoulder. Willy was gazing at him intently.

 

“We need to talk after you shower,” he muttered. “Meet me in the living room.”

 

Shawn gulped, he didn’t like the sound of that. ‘We need to talk’ is something no one wants to hear, especially not a lover. He pondered as he cleaned himself from the mashed potatoes and thoughts. It likely was nothing. It hopefully was Willy just wanting to talk to him about what had been for him the last thirty years. He changed into his old pajamas, marveling at how wonderful they felt. He left the bathroom, sucking in the arid air of the hall.

 

“Pa…?”

 

“Yes, Gonner?” the words flowed smoothly. For him, it had just been a day.

 

“C-can you talk to Dad?” she asked in that hoarse, raspy voice that Shawn could always identify as his daughter’s. Her hands moved slightly, mimicking her words subconsciously in sign language. “He’s… sad, or something. I think it has to do with you, strangely enough. I don’t know… haha… I hope you can help him.”

 

“I’ll try,” he promised, and she nodded, vanishing up the stairs in a flick. Shawn walked down the familiar floor, silently entering the living room. Willy sat on his usual dark purple armchair, staring at the ground before him. Shawn took to ‘casually’ lean against the wall. He cleared his throat, Willy’s head snapping up to observe him. He moved to sit on the couch beside his armchair, placing a palm over Willy’s hypersensitive hand. “Yes, mhuirnín?”

 

“I need you to… to…. Shawn,” he sucked in a shaky breath, turning to cup his cheek. His eyes were soft and tired. “Listen to me. You are young, you are handsome, you have a full life ahead of you, filled with opportunity. Don’t waste it on me. I’ve gotten only older through winters as the ice of time preserved you. I’ve never been the nicest looking person around, and now even less so with so many more marks and scars. I’m old, much older than you. I’m fifty three, Shawn. You are only twenty six. Times have changed.”

 

“I don’t think that you remember that to me, you had gone to war just six months ago,” Shawn pointed out. Willy blinked. He had forgotten that fact. Time’s weird like that. He bit his lip. “You haven’t been seeing anyone, have ye?”

 

“No,” Willy sighed. “There was one LA guy, twenty years ago… and, well, we simply didn’t click. I kept comparing everyone I met to you. No one, ever, came close. Shawn… thirty one years, I’ve been alone. Shawn… you’re so unique and wonderful. Why should you chain yourself to me?”

 

“Because I love you,” he stated, getting up to straddle Willy on his armchair. He turned red. Shawn came a little closer, Willy outlined by cushions. “Because of this.”

 

He kissed him, pushing him against purple cushions. Willy gently pulled him off. He gave him a chastising look, then sighed, lowering his head. Shawn realized once more that things had changed, time had passed and Willy had lived by himself for so long, but at the same time, nothing changed, and Willy was still that same self deprecating man he had been. Shawn had hoped that he would grow more comfortable with himself over time, but he understood that his and the studio’s vanishing was in part responsible for huge backslide. Shawn kissed him again, and Willy pulled him off once more. Shawn growled, taking Willy’s hands and pinning them above his head. He kissed him more forcefully. Willy turned his face away. Shawn sighed, pressing his forehead to Willy’s temple.

 

“Why won’t you let me care about you? Why don’t you remember how much I care?” he murmured in his ear, running a hand through beautifully tinged hair, pale chardonnay white. Willy inhaled sharply and stiffened. “Don’t you know I love you, Willy? I love you.”

 

“I… I love you too, Shawn,” Willy whispered, closing his eyes shut tight. “I really love you, so much. I just know that there are better people for you than me. You deserve better than an old, depressed, PTSDed man. Love, I… I can’t make it up to you. I’m not what I used to be. It’s been hard, yes, but I would be happy just knowing you are. I truly love and care about you. But it’s been so long… Shawn, Shawn, Shawn, I love you, I love you… please, d-don’t.”

 

Tears welled in his eyes, which were hastily wiped away. Shawn took his hands.

 

“Tell me that I don’t love you,” he demanded, his hands pulsating against the dark skinned man’s. He swallowed roughly, looking at their intertwined fingers through the corner of his eye from his turned away face. He closed them around Shawn’s hands, feeling everything about him. There were only positive emotions. Willy grimaced. “I dare you!”

 

“I lose,” he replied, head snapping up, fingers entangling in brown hair, yanking him down roughly, kissing him, their bodies flush against each other. Just the idea of losing Willy for thirty years made Shawn groan as his heart panged. Willy kissed every spot on his face, sprinkling in little whispered ‘I love you’s. Neither wanted to break away from the other. They both strived to get even closer to each other, pulling on clothes and hair. Willy slowly backed down, breathing hard and slow. Shawn caught his lips once more before resting his hands on WIlly’s shoulders, his head inches away from Willy’s. “Love… you know this isn't right… you can do better than me. You know this.”

 

“I don’t give a damn,” he insisted, trying to kiss him again. Willy put his index finger over Shawn’s lips, holding him back. He dug his fingers into Willy’s hip. He winced, but kept his distance. He pursed his lips. “I expect that next you’ll be telling me I’m sleeping on the couch.”

 

“No,” he sighed. “It’s just… I have less time in this world than you. I don’t want you to feel the pain of losing someone you love.”

 

“I don’t care,” he snapped, pressing Willy’s shoulders into the armchair. “You lost me, and I’m back now, and I love you, even if you still can’t recognize it.”

 

“Let’s… we’ll talk more in the morning,” Willy rubbed his eyes, half in exasperation and half out of exhaustion. “C’mon.”

 

Shawn snuggled up to him in their bed. Willy seemed to be startled that another was with him. He sighed, stroking the Irishman’s chocolate brown hair. It did not take Shawn long to fall asleep. Willy did not. Time passed. The red glare of the digital clock (he promised himself to be rid of it so many times, but never found the energy or time) told him it was nearing three. He ran a hand through his hair once more, then sighed and got out of bed silently, pressing a kiss to Shawn’s cheek.

 

“I love you,” he whispered. Shawn stirred, a smile edging on his lips as he slept. He left the room, having spent enough time alone in the house to know where there was no creaking wood. He took in noises as he walked down the hall; snores, breathing, humans sleeping in general. It made his head spin. He finally reached the back door, donning his silvery trench coat, grabbing his umbrella, and stepped out into the cold, crisp, evening. A pair of mismatched eyes followed him curiously. The owner of these eyes were stunned to see the same colored eyes opening sleepily. Whatever it was rose to its feet, trotting over to Willy. Illuminated in the soft light coming from the house, Eska could see a big old husky wagging his tail by his best friend. Willy lowered himself to greet his dog. “Hello, Airgead. You’ve been sleepy lately, just like me, and when you should be asleep, you’re awake, huh?”

 

Airgead just smiled at him, nudging him. Willy smiled back and sighed, beginning a walk for the two of them. Eska followed. Willy was humming. It quieted as he and Airgead walked further, vanishing into the long branches of the willow tree. Eska slipped in after a moment as well, surprised not to see his best friend. Arms wrapped around his waist.

 

“Found you,” was murmured into his back, reminiscent of old days and senescent games. Eska blinked and smiled, turning to face Willy. In addition to his brown eyes, the two heterochromatic eyes, bounced over to him, sniffing him and licking his fingers. “Eska, this is Airgead. He likes you. Well, he likes everyone, but he likes you a lot.” … silence. A pause, then- “I missed you, you know? Y-you told me you wanted to be buried with your pets… but there was no body, you know? S-so, I took one of your masks, the green one… green ‘cause I always hoped you were alive… and I buried that one… I hope you don’t mind, Eska… I really do….”

 

Long and thin arms snaked around him comfortingly. He buried his face in his chest, scrubbing away tears before they started. Airgead nuzzled him, whining sympathetically. Willy scratched his head.

 

“I’m alright…” he exhaled, clearly not. The husky and Eska shared a glance. “I’m just so confused and lost -- about you, about Joey, Henry, and Shawn…. Ugh, Shawn! What do I do, Eska? I love him, and I don’t want him to hate me, but I also don’t want him tied down to me! Should I leave? Should I stay here, but force him away? Can I even handle that amount of heartbreak?! I’m so lost….”

 

Eska shrugged, silently wishing there could be someone else Willy could ask, but he was the only one there. So instead, he hugged him again. They returned to the house, plopping down on the couch, Airgead yawning and laying by their feet. Eska curled up, resting his head on Willy’s leg, nodding away. Willy closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.

 

The smell of apples and lavender bergamot tea woke him up, as well as the soft hum of whispered conversation. Willy looked at his hands. Beside him was Eska, awake now, and resting his head on Willy’s shoulder. Laughter spouted from the kitchen, followed by pancakes. Willy’s worst fear had not come true, and he exhaled in stunned relief. They all were still there. It wasn’t just a dream, which would have turned hellish nightmare in the morning. He got up, Eska following, Airgead jumping onto the couch with a self fulfilled smile. Shawn sat beside Willy at the table, grinning at him. Willy shakily smiled back. Shawn’s smile turned more gentle and loving, and he tugged on Willy’s chin to pull him in for a kiss. Wally’s laughter bubbled out of the kitchen, accompanied by yelling and no longer hushed conversation. Shawn pulled away, and took Willy’s hand, leaning back and shoving a pancake in his mouth, whole. Willy snorted. His fiance was the same lovable goof. His brother was the same egotistical wisecracker. His best friend was still, well, Eska (you can’t label that anything else). Everyone was alive and well, Henry having broke a machine and somehow fixed all their problems. Willy couldn’t wait to see how the rest of the story would go. His hand squeezed Shawn’s, and he let out an incredulous laugh he had held in for a long time. It wasn’t like the tale could get much crazier than this! (He was wrong.)


End file.
